Friday, February 24, 2017

The Meager Recovery

7 years and many efforts ago, I was a winner. A shark, who went out and hunted and got what it wanted. Excelling in anything that came my way. Alpha kid was what I was. Life was rosy and defeat was limited to a word I had once read in my English book.
ONE decision later, it was all over. The black hole of life had found me with its inescapable pull. I felt human in a mortal way, just another soul wandering about among the millions with earthly problems. It was a blow to my perception of life. I was a prisoner in the darkest corner of the death cell where I was sentenced indefinitely. Staying friendless, riding on a cycle to and from a gigantic building of sorrows was my job. I was looked down upon, reminded how inadequate I was, compared with people basking in fake superiority. The frustration built within me, I did not explode. I did not cry. Not one tear. I was at a point way beyond the sadness which leads to crying. I sat under that wretched black coloured plastic lamp, every day most hours of the night. Trying, trying hard to professionally fly. I had forgotten that sharks don't fly.
It was enough. I snapped. "I dont give a shit" became my motto. A self-destructive move. But I would do that again if given a chance. It was the only way to live through the pathetic excuse for a life. All my agitation had finally surfaced. How much worse can it get? I challenged this notion. When you have hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up.
And up I went, surpassing all those who were flying really high. But this was the sea, and you can only escape and not hunt by flying. This excruciating experience embarrassing to say the least. A lot of people who met me in the middle of this ordeal probably thought I was a loser. But it feels good, to finally be able to write something like this. 

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